


This One Ain't a Cold Case (2)

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [24]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, F/M, FBI agent betty, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Little bit of angst, Serpent King Jughead, Serpent Prince Jughead, choni, detective duo, enemies to friends to lovers sorta not really?, gang leader jughead, pre slash, sleuthing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: After revealing that she only started dating him to get information, Agent Cooper tries to reignite her relationship with gang leader Jughead.





	This One Ain't a Cold Case (2)

**Author's Note:**

> For all the people who wanted a happier epilogue! I wish it was a bit fluffier, butI hope that, regardless, you
> 
> ENJOY!

"All those times I touched you," Jughead whispered, maudlin written into every line of his face as he trailed his fingers lightly across her bare stomach. "All those times we had..." he couldn't bring himself to say it, and Betty cupped his face sadly. "Did you...was I..." contrition stained his voice and she hurried to correct him. 

"God no," she whispered, "god no, Juggie. I wanted too. Believe me, I wouldn't have had sex with you unless I wanted to-"

"But the first time," he insisted, eyes boring into hers; emerald and shamrock. "The first time you were just doing it to get close to me?" 

She leaned forward to kiss him, their lips meeting softly as she hooked one leg over his and snuggled into his bare chest. "I love you, Juggie," she willed him to understand. "I wanted to have sex with you the first time, and every time after that, okay?" She looked up at him, and caught his lips before they could twist into another frown. He softened at her touch and wrapped his arm around her, squeezing her bare shoulder. 

"Yeah," he whispered; nodding. "Okay." 

She kissed the underside of his jaw in the way he liked, and he grinned at her, planting a firm kiss to her forehead.

Sleep came friendly and familiar as it always came, a relief from the stresses of day-to-day life, and she woke up to warm rays and silence. Blinking to awareness she looked at Jughead sleeping beside her, and the sight of the messy trailer around her. It was the same and yet it was different. Everything was different, everything was old but everything was also new. It had been a few weeks since she'd come back to Riverdale, since Jughead had bought her that drink, and she was still navigating her way through the waters. She was trying so hard to be herself and no one else that she worried she  _was_ acting like someone else. She stayed planted firmly at Jughead or Sweet Pea's side, and peeked out at everyone else, wondering where she stood with them. She longed to ask Jughead, the Serpent Prince, how they felt about her, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. Couldn't bring herself to remind him of what she'd done and see the flash of pain and lingering betrayal. 

He was trying so hard to forgive her, and occasionally a barbed, snide remark would tumble out of his lips and he'd hurry to apologise, but she waved it away. She tugged on one of his tee's and padded to the kitchen. This was the first time he'd asked her back with him, the first time they'd touched, they'd had sex since it all happened. They fit together just like she remembered, and she'd chanted his name into his ear and he'd held her like she wasn't some traitorous thing. He'd held her as if she was the genuine thing she so wanted to be. But now morning was here and she wasn't sure what to do. The kitchen was mostly clean, and she looked through the cabinets for something and smiled softly to herself at the sight of pop tarts. She tugged them out ad popped two into the microwave, wandering around as they heated up. 

There was a photo on the small table beside the television now, that there hadn't been the last time she was here. She picked it up carefully, surprised at the heavy weight of the frame. It was expensive then; clearly a gift. She stroked her finger over the picture and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. It was of Jughead and Cheryl; tastefully taken. Cheryl was sitting on the edge of the pool table in the White Wyrm, a drink in hand and the straw in her mouth, serpent jacket on and hair fierce and full around her. Whilst Jughead stood beside her, leaning on his pool cue with a grin on his face, in the middle of laughing at something she'd just said. They looked close and the colours were fantastic; the red of Cheryl's hair and the supple scarlet of her leather jacket, Jughead's midnight locks falling into his pale face and the lush green of the pool table. She looked at the back of the frame and saw a small, faded message written in pencil.  _To relationships that last, my hobo._ It wrote. She set it down, mourning in her own quiet way until the spring of the pop starts drew her back. 

Nibbling on one, she sat at the kitchen counter and pulled out her phone. There was a message from Toni sent last night.  **Go get that d girl!** it read, and Betty scoffed, swiping to reply when the sound of Jughead stirring drew her attention. As she waited for him, her eyes found the photo again. She missed Cheryl. Sweet Pea and FP and Fangs were happy to talk to her, not for ages like they used to, but without any significant strain; whereas Cheryl had been nowhere to be found since she'd been back. Jughead was probably meeting with her whilst Betty was at the small apartment she was renting uptown. She smiled as he came through the door, and he eyed her with a wry grin. 

"I'm getting creepy deja-vu." He muttered, stealing her second pop tart and placing it whole into his mouth. She laughed, turning to switch the coffee machine on. 

"And yet everything still looks like I remember," she beamed, and he huffed tiredly, sitting down. Her eyes drifted again to the photo, and he caught their gaze. He swallowed as much of his sugary breakfast as he could but the crumbs still stained his tongue and lips. 

"She'll need time, Betty." He said quietly, and she nodded down at her plate. He reached for her hand and she offered it to him. "She'll come around." 

"I just-" she laughed wetly when she realised there were tears in her eyes and hurried to brush them away, "-I just feel like I had everything, and then I lost it." She sniffed and looked up at him. His face was sympathetic and understanding and it made her feel worse. " _You_ need more time. I know you do, but you're still...you're still being so nice, and I don't know how to- I feel so awful all the time, and I just wish I could go back and undo everything-"

He stood, cutting her off with a solid look. "Hey, hey, hey," he whispered, coming around the counter to collect her into his strong arms. "Don't ever wish that. You got rid of murderers and hard core drug dealers, Betty. You were just doing your job, and you fell in love, that's okay." He shushed her, smoothing down her hair and holding her gently. "I know I'm not there yet, but I know that I love you, and that I want to be. Wounds heal, Betty, you know that." He pulled back, stroking his thumb over her sodden cheek and blowing onto them to ease the soreness. "You can't keep torturing yourself like this." 

She tried to listen to him, but her heart thumped unevenly in her chest. "Sometimes," she croaked, hands shaking, "Sweet Pea just stares at me. He thinks I can't see him, but-but I  _can_ and he's just there in my peripheral and he's just staring and I don't know what he's thinking or-"

Jughead pulled her in for another tight hug whilst she wailed, and he frowned hard. "Okay," he murmured soothingly, "okay. We'll do something about that." 

'Something' turned out to be taking Betty to the Wyrm during its most popular hour in the evening. She held Jughead's hand tightly, incredibly conscious at her lack of jacket, and sat in the booth beside him, trying to block prying eyes from sight. "I'm not sure about this," she confessed, smoothing down her black dress. "What if someone comes up? What if they start yelling? What if they're mad-"

"Heya Betty, Jug," FP nodded, coming out of the back room with a smile on his face. He looked between them and winked. "Lover's date night, huh? Ah, to be young again," Jughead waved him off and FP ruffled his son's hair before going to join Mustang for a cigarette outside. Betty watched him go; fondness and warmth in her heart. She'd always liked FP. She turned to see Jughead's pleased eyes and she smiled a little, kicking him under the table. 

He pushed her drink towards her, and shrugged off his jacket. "No one's gonna say anything to you, Betty. You saved us."

"I  _played_ you," she corrected, and he grinned at her unabashedly. 

"You also played yourself."

Huh. She supposed she had, a little bit. And true to his word, no one came up to her. In fact, soon the surreptitious looks died down and it was the fuzzy activity of the Wyrm that she had so enjoyed before. Fangs collapsed into the seat of the booth beside her, offering her a cheery smile and sliding a brown envelope towards Jughead. The leader took it with a nod and took his phone out to begin texting that the money had been delivered. Betty sighed and tried to relax. She liked Fangs a lot, he had never said anything about what had happened. "Hey," she greeted warmly, "how are you?"

He scrubbed his hand over his head and stifled a small yawn. "Exhausted," he chuckled, shaking his head to wake himself up. "SeaSide deliveries were late and I can't sleep near the ocean." He shuddered, "it freaks me out."

Betty laughed loudly, and Jughead opened his mouth to tease him when his phone started ringing. He rolled his eyes exasperatedly at the number, and stood up. "One second guys, I gotta take this," he apologised, shooting Betty a confirming look and she nodded, watching as he went to talk about the late pickups. He was an effective leader, she'd always known that, utterly ruthless when he needed to be but never to the point of murder. She stirred her drink, not really in the mood for it, when Fangs yanked her back to the present. 

"You guys back together or what?" He asked with a grin, taking a bag of peanuts out of his pocket and offering it to her. She shook her head, shrugging. 

"I don't know," she said honestly, "I want us to be, but we're taking it slowly. We thought that would be for the best." 

Fangs raised his eyebrows and laughed. " _He_ thought it would for the best. You look like you completely disagree."

Betty made an unhappy face and ducked when Fangs tossed a peanut at her. "I don't know..." she dragged her fingers along the tabletop. "He was going to propose to me, and this feels like such a step backwards, and I know, I know, he feels like he doesn't know who I was, but I was  _me._ I was just..." she winced, "hiding a part of myself. But I'm still the woman he loved, I think. And I still love him. It's infuriating, and I know I can't do anything about it." 

It felt good to get it all out in the open, and she watched Fangs to see what his reaction would be. She felt utterly grateful for his presence beside her, a little less awkward, a little less adrift in an ocean of uncertainty. "I think the problem is," he began, mouth full of the salty snack, "you're trying to hide a huge part of yourself." She frowned, and he raised his hand before she could interrupt. "I mean," he elaborated, "you're an FBI agent, Betty, and that's cool. You should take him to work with you, you should show him your badge. I mean, you're trying to show him who you really are, and you must've spent years working to get where you are. Don't hide away from it." He punctuated his poignant thought by crunching into a peanut and sending pieces flying everywhere.

Betty was stricken, and she nodded eagerly. "You're right!" She said brightly; determined. 

 

Seeing Jughead sitting amongst FBI cubicles and paperwork was slightly surreal. She watched as he sipped his black coffee, and chatted lightly to Toni. From what Betty could overhear from the conversation, he was saying how much he preferred her natural hair, and she was telling him that she agreed with the Pickin's statue and that's why she'd head to leave. Betty had ducked out of listening when Jughead had murmured how much he respected her, and tried not to let the jealousy overwhelm her. 

What were they? Were they dating? They haven't talked about having sex, they haven't talked about the kisses shared that night. He holds her close and holds her hand, but they haven't talked about anything. She worried her bottom lip as she stirred her coffee, and jumped at the feeling of a warm hand on the small of her back. "This is cool," Jughead murmured into her ear, setting down the mug and she relished in his easy touches. "Ash-Toni's cool. Can you use a gun?" 

She giggled, turning around and sipping her own drink. "I can," she informed smugly, "you don't wanna see me with a barrel in my hands."

He whistled, shoving his hands into his pockets and nodding. "You'd be a force to be reckoned with."

"The infamous Jughead Jones the III," Reggie called, and Betty watched as he waltzed into the room. His blue tie was a little loose around his neck and his shirt was untucked, which she knew meant he'd been working a case for some time. "I thought the first time I saw you would be when I was locking you up." He said chipperly, slamming his hand down onto Jughead's shoulder. The green-eyed man smirked a little, to Betty's surprise, and half shrugged.

"There's still time yet," he offered dryly, and Reggie snorted, crossing his arms. 

"I like him, Betty. Bit on the thin side. Here Jones, you sure you could even lift up a snake, let alone lead them?" Reggie jostled him playfully, and Betty watched with no small amount of stuntedness at how Jughead didn't shy away from it. He seemed to blossom up a little; his face relaxing as if he were exercising some long disused muscle as he shoved Reggie right back and ducked out of his grip with a nimble twist. 

He brushed himself off with faux-casualness and smirked. "Maybe you should test it. But on second thoughts, fighting you in here gives you an unfair advantage. Why don't you come on down to the trailer park sometime?" He cracked his knuckles. "I even promise to fight fair."

Reggie's head tilted back with his laughter, and he stretched his arms languidly in front of him. "Dude, you are a breath of fresh air. I've been stuck in that damn office all day trying to tie pieces together that just won't fit."

Betty frowned curiously. "The Becker case?" She asked, and Jughead looked between them; intrigued. Betty fought her smile, she knew from his novel that he was inquisitive, and that perhaps in another life he would have been a journalist. "Have you not made any headway?" 

"None," Reggie confessed with a resigned sigh. "I just can't seem to pinpoint how he's luring them. If I could do that, I'd be able to give the guy a profile."

"The Becker Case..." Jughead repeated, eyes losing focus as he concentrated on something. "Are those the killings over by Laurendale? The uh-" he snapped his fingers, "-the Becker Bodies? By the lake?"

Reggie nodded, rubbing at his face. Betty stood beside Jughead, encouraged by the fact that he'd been following the story. "Maybe Juggie and I could take a look?" She asked, ignoring and barrelling past their equally surprised faces. "He could offer a fresh insight. He has...a unique view on the world."

Jughead snorted from behind her. "That's a word for it."

But Reggie tilted his head consideringly, and half nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm certainly not making any head way."

 

And that's how they ended up in Laurendale, walking towards a sketchy motel on a particularly overcast day. Betty took in all the sharp angles and itched for her gun hidden in the back of her coat. If this was how he was organising the meets, then they were walking into the lion's den. They weren't supposed to engage contact, in fact, they weren't supposed to be here at all, but they'd followed their hunch and Betty had been thrilled when Jughead had nodded eagerly at her plan. Going rogue was something she liked to do, and Jughead seemed to thrive on the edge of it all. 

"You know, you might want to alter that skip in your step. People might get the wrong impression." Jughead's wry voice cut through the optimistic sheen in her eyes, and she threw him a look over her shoulder and waited for him to catch up. She had been bounding forward, she realised, but she'd been so happy. The past few days working with Jughead on the case had been surreal. Sitting in his trailer with papers and leads strewn everywhere; how comfortable she felt talking about her training and her experience without treading on eggshells due to the enthusiastic gleam in his eyes had made her feel amazing. They still hadn't talked about the kiss though, or the sex, and what they were.

"Juggie," she hedged, as they headed through the parking lot. "About that night..."

He lifted his eyebrows, and she admired his profile in the soft glow of the white, morning light. "What about it?"

"Well..." she struggled for the words, "are we...I mean...what are we?"

He grinned, adjusting the beanie on his head before stuffing his fingers back into the light blue of his fleeced jacket. "Are we back in high school, Betty?" He teased, eyes crinkling. "Are you asking me to go steady with you?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I mean, does that mean we're...because I still love you." She ignored his sharp intake of breath. "I never stopped, and I understand you wanna go slow, but I just wanna know how you feel and where we are?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, and his dark hair stood in stark contrast from the beige swashed landscape. "I love you too, Betty. I never stopped. I couldn't stop. But I've never been a labels guy, so I'm not sure what you want me to say. I want you by my side, and I wanna be by yours. Is that enough?"

Her smile hurt her cheeks, and she nodded, pony tail bobbing. "More than." She promised, holding out her hand. He looked at it, before a goofy look crossed his face and he twined their fingers together. Inside was dirty and seedy, and the woman at the counter glared at them. It was second nature to slide her arm up his chest and put a sultry look on her face, and she blinked back her surprise at the  _stutter-stutter_ of his heart that she could feel beneath her palm. As soon as they were heading up the stairwell, she didn't relinquish her hold on him. "You liked that?" She asked, knowing the answer. 

He laughed in that carefree way that was rare and reserved for her. It was one of the few things that kept her going whenever she'd felt alone in the past few months. "I think I'd like you pretty much anywhere anytime, Betts. That can't come as a surprise." He said matter-of-factly, though a rouge tint tinged his cheeks. She blushed in response as they headed to the second floor. 

"Ditto." She whispered into a moment of silence, and his snort of surprised laughter pushed her into a cascade of giggles. 

It was the most fun she'd ever had sleuthing. 

 

Things had been going well, really well, like a second relationship. Embarking upon it slowly but surely, Betty felt comfortable again. Sweet Pea had come over with bowl of popcorn and a stack of DVD's when Jughead had been forced to head out to oversee a deal, and she'd felt like they were before it all happened. Different, but with the same ease and comfort. FP had always treated her the same way, and always picked her up a chocolate milkshake from Pop's whenever he was going to be driving by her apartment. 

Everything had slotted back in; Fangs, Toni and surprisingly Reggie and Jughead. She just missed Cheryl, really rather fiercely, but whenever she'd brought up meeting her to Jughead, his hesitant look and placating words told her all she needed to know. Cheryl wasn't ready. Not yet. 

So one night, as Betty made some soup for Jughead, who'd caught a horrendous cold, and was asleep on the couch, she jumped when the trailer door burst open. Cheryl took in the scene quickly, face impassive, red hair falling into red leather as she slammed it shut behind her. Instinctively, Betty brought her finger to her lips. "He's sick," she whispered by way of explanation when Cheryl looked as if her glare might fry her on the spot. Betty took her in. It had been so long since she'd last seen her and she looked every bit the warrior that she remembered. She wondered briefly what Cheryl might be like on the force. Cheryl's face softened slightly, and she went over to Jughead, pressing her cold hands to his forehead. 

"Get up, Jug," she murmured in a warmer voice than Betty expected. "I need someone to drive the truck back tonight."

He wheezed a little, blinking wearily as he stared up at her; groggily. "Cheryl?" He slurred, nose red and sniffling. "Ungh, sure-"

"He's really sick." Betty insisted, bringing the soup over and setting it down. "Couldn't you do it another night?"

"Jughead, could you ask your harpy not to talk to me? I don't want whatever she's got." Cheryl snapped, and Betty winced, watching as Jughead struggled to sit up. He made a small, wounded sound and Cheryl reached forward at the same time as the blonde to comfort him. 

He groaned, coughing up some phlegm. Cheryl retracted a little in disgust. "Don't talk to her like that, Cheryl," he managed hoarsely, and the red head tossed her locks over her shoulder.

"You sound like you're dying."

"Thanks." 

"As pitiful as I find you, hobo, I still need someone to drive the truck back. Sweet Pea and Fangs are out and you know I won't deal with anyone else."

Jughead nodded, struggling to his feet, but Betty pushed him back down resolutely. "I'll do it, Cheryl." She said strongly, nodding at their expressions. "I can do it just fine." 

Cheryl looked as if she wanted to argue, but turned to look at Jughead's sickly, pale face. The fiery girl sighed in acceptance; looking through Betty. "Fine, plebe. Don't talk, don't look at me. Just get it done if you can. Oh, and without any back-stabbings would be a plus. Think you can manage it?" She tossed the keys to Betty who caught them quickly. "Great." And she stormed out. Betty stared after her with a sinking feeling.

"She really hates me, doesn't she?" She whispered, and Jughead shook his head from where it was currently nestled near his soup. 

"No she doesn't. She's just hurt because she likes you so much." 

The sentiment was a little lost between his hacking cough and sneezing, but Betty thought she got the gist. 

 

Somewhere between the long, dark road and the long, bright horizon; Cheryl's stony silence was broken. Betty wasn't sure if it was her hour-long apology/confession, or the empty stretch of distance before them, that had the scarlet beauty opening up. "You betrayed me." She began, and Betty gripped the steering wheel tightly. "And I hate that I care so much, and I hate that I understand you, but worst of all, I hate that I don't hate you." Betty didn't say anything, unsure what she could say. Fields rolled by. She'd just worked up the courage to say something, when Cheryl continued. "I love that he's forgiven you." She said, barely more than a whisper, and Betty's heart thumped in her chest. "Because I know he loves you. I love that he's forgiven you because it means that I can forgive you too, someday." She sniffed a little. "If I ever feel so inclined."

Betty took the grape vine in both hands. "I really am sorry, Cheryl."

"From one daddy damaged daughter to another," she cut her off, "I think we're both allowed one free pass."

Betty half smiled, turning away from the road to see how the lights flashed past across Cheryl's face. "What's yours?"

"This." Cheryl beamed; yanking the handbrake up and forcing the van into a screeching halt that sent them both lunging forward. Betty screamed; lunging for the door as soon as the truck stopped and lurching onto the cold, wet road. She was regaining her breath on the floor, when she saw Cheryl sidle over into the driver's seat and drive off into the distance, her middle finger stuck out of the window for as far as she could see. 

The walk home was wet and cold and lonely, and more hopeful than Betty had felt in a long time. 

 

When Jughead's buried inside her; teeth clamped into her shoulder, hands bruising on her waist, Betty feels like she's in a type of heaven. As her legs clamp around his waist and her fingers tighten and tug in his hair, she thinks rather fiercely that she wants this forever. She wants the ring on her finger that he was going to give her all that time ago; she wants to wake up to him and fall asleep with him and spend every moment in between in a life that's shared with him. 

Cheryl's forgiveness was as powerful and scorching as the woman herself, but what came with it was loyalty and a sense of being part of something greater than herself. 

When Cheryl and Jughead give her the bright pink leather jacket, she wears it with as much joy as she thinks she would wear an engagement ring. 

"Who is that?" Cheryl asks, as they stand with all the serpents by the lake on a sunny Saturday. She's pointing at Toni and Betty laughs into her red hair. 

"That," Betty grins amiably, "is your final conquest." 

Cheryl smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and nodding. "You might be right about that."

As she goes over to the short haired agent, Betty watches and feels practically whole. She's with family, and Jughead appears beside her, arm around her waist. "I'm afraid that girl is the Serpent Queen," he murmurs, and Betty nods in agreement. Jughead and Cheryl rule spectacularly. "But that doesn't mean she's my queen." And then there's a velvet, box-shaped thing bumping her hand. She looks down in surprise, and swallows hard, looking up at him. He's smiling, looking every inch the sweetheart that she knows he is. "I was thinking, maybe if you're free sometime next year..?"

Her laugh is wet and honest and desperate, and she kisses him like she's regained the final part of herself. 

FP tears up at the reception, and spends the rest of his life denying it. But Jughead has it on video. 

People think it's strange; that she's an FBI agent and he's a gang leader, but Betty doesn't think it's strange at all. 

Betty knows it's love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/Prompt/Whatever you're into???
> 
> Tumble with me at: typing123 
> 
> MWAH MWAH MWAH 
> 
> x
> 
> PS I would really love some prompts! I'm stagnating a little and really wanna hear your ideas! I like the idea of bughead at college and betty and jughead debating each other on the grassy campuses with megaphones and hate/love/respecting each other simultaneously? PLEASE HELP! 
> 
> mwah again


End file.
